


A Dream Of A Thousand Dragons

by Pitseleh



Category: Temeraire - Novik
Genre: Crossover, Dreams, Gen, Greece, Storytelling, Unresolved Sexual Tension, creepy mood fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 14:15:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pitseleh/pseuds/Pitseleh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Temeraire, Iskierka and assorted company visit Greece, and Greece visits them back. Sandman Xover, Temeraire!Canon-centric, dealing with the fate of Johanna Constantine and her talking head (the other one).</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dream Of A Thousand Dragons

Being that Tharkay was among them the only man who had, upon traveling to Greece, been there for more than a military expenditure, he was once more appointed guide to their general company. He did not seem, to Laurence, bothered by the change, though nor did he act in the matter he once had, leading their company to Istanbul, years back. For himself, Laurence could not decide if it was a change of terrain to be blamed, or a change of character, or perhaps even something else entire; Laurence did not think himself at all privy to the workings of Tharkay's mind, and did not like to presume, unknowing.

He did not press. He did not pry. He only wondered.

Temeraire was fed on a fat stock of sheep they had purchased from a local farmer, along with Iskierka, also with them in Greece. Tharkay was, unsurprisingly, knowledgeable enough in Greek to negotiate the transaction, shaking his head to explain, of all things, that Granby's earring-- small and unadorned, only a simple golden circle upon his ear-- was not for sale.

"It is some trinket Iskierka scavenged from a French ship; if I sold the thing, I imagine she would be..." Granby struggled to find a word that meant 'unbearable' without actually saying 'unbearable'.

"Distraught." Laurence offered, and continued when Granby nodded, agreeing. "I for one cannot understand why he wanted the thing so dearly. Tharkay, do you know..."

Tharkay was, for himself, watching his kestrel circle above the grounds where the dragons now ate their dinners, making sure it was not inadvertently steam-cooked, eaten or immolated. Without turning his head, he said, "I am no more privy to the Grecian condition than any man." And the twist of his grin gave his words a double meaning-- or did they? Laurence was not sure, and tried not to assume. Tharkay only continued on, "I suppose he thought it a fitting gift for some sweetheart, or another small sentimentality. Do not think too greatly of it; I doubt it was of much consequence to him, besides possibly wheedling more out of our funds."

Laurence was too distracted, thinking on when _your_ had become _our_, to inquire further, much less to puzzle at Tharkay's shift in temper.

He got another chance, though, that morning. Tharkay rose early, and Laurence, never one to sleep in, found himself sharing the man's company until the others awoke. He could hear them snoring still as he dressed, leaving his tent to find Tharkay eating a small, cold breakfast that, with a small nod of his head, Laurence was offered to share. He would have preferred something larger, warmer or more filling, but had no inclination to be rude, and accepted the offer graciously as he could.

They watched the sun lazily reach the clouds, rare and scattered, before Tharkay spoke.

"Do you know the name of this island?"

Laurence had heard it, and could recall it if named in front of him, but they did not plan to stay overlong; he was no longer a sea-captain, Laurence reminded himself, no longer responsible for remembering every name of every port so they crossed. "Nacks-?" He began.

"Naxos. They say this is where Theseus abandoned Ariadne."

"I did not think you a classicist, Tharkay." He smiled, attempting at conversation, however futile the action was, given his company. "Are there satyrs here, too? I am sure Temeraire would inquire to what manner of meal they would make."

As predicted, Tharkay did not respond, and only continued to stare out onto the ocean and gently crashing waves. "They also say this is where Orpheus resides."

At this, Laurence laughed in earnest. He had himself also heard the tale; when the war had broke out with France, ghost stories, already ever popular with sailors, set in their now-nemesis had become even more vogue. A story of an Englishwoman outsmarting Robespierre, beset with a talking disembodied head, had been nigh but irresistible, especially to the men of His Majesty's Royal Navy; Laurence still remembered the voyage where, in the breath of only one day, he had heard that same story told eight times over, and with each telling a different version.

But Tharkay did not seem to be joking.

Laurence had always seen Tharkay as a sensible man, not privy to fits of superstition and mysticism as less worldly men were prone. He began to try and express this, but before he could fit this opinion into more politic wording, they were interrupted by Iskierka waking to begin a squabble with Temeraire; Laurence could not make out over what, as a tent was being lit aflame. They the both of them had to rush back before the blaze claimed their supplies all; their conversation in effect finished.

Laurence did not get to ask which version of the tale Tharkay had heard until later in the day, sitting around a thankfully more controlled fire. They were eating dinner in a most informal matter that, now stripped of rank and the kinder graces of society, Laurence still found awkward, if not satisfying in a most indulgent way.

Somehow, the conversation swung back to the story of Orpheus and Johanna Constantine. It seemed Laurence was not the only one with their early-morning conversation still on his mind, and while Granby had heard the story also, neither the dragons nor Roland, Demane or Sipho had, and all uninformed parties begged it be retold.

Tharkay refused to oblige, however, and so Granby took up the mantle. "I'm not so good at this," he warned. "Mostly I get stories told to me, not the other way round."

Iskierka protested this modesty, of course, and after some reassuring from near all at the campfire, Granby began. Laurence's relief was somewhat embarrassed-- if Granby had not told the story, he would have had to.

"Have you ever heard of a woman called Johanna Constantine?" he asked his most captive audience of two dragons and three young children. They all shook their heads or made the equivalent noises, with Iskierka going so far as to shoot a spout of steam from her back in anticipation for the story to begin. "Well, then." Granby said, "Here is why."

Granby was not the best storyteller Laurence had ever heard, no, but he was by no means the worst, and managed to get the right reactions from his audience well enough. When Orpheus spoke for the first time, and Roland gasped appropriately, and when Lady Constantine was captured, Sipho and Demane to grunted in frustrated protest. Some of the older men listening even booed when Robespierre made his entrance; their opinion of French government seemed to be low, regardless of such particulars as who and when.

And, at the conclusion when Orpheus sang, the camp was, if only then for a moment, silent.

Tharkay's eyes had been distant the entire time, and Laurence knew it only polite to at least attempt to include him in the conversation. "And did you not say earlier, Tharkay, that the island he was left upon was none other than the very one currently hosting us?"

Tharkay only said, "I did."

Demane, Sipho and Roland then began to jabber excitedly, and Iskierka asked if that meant the head of Orpheus was somewhere near, and if she could see it; when Demane asked if Orpheus had ever had his earring returned to him, though none answered.

Laurence went to bed warm from food and company, wondering only lingeringly about Tharkay's recent odd manner (more odd, even, than that which Laurence found he had become accustomed). He spoke to Temeraire about the story, saying, "It is not truth, Temeraire; do not worry. It is like Neptune and Badger-Bag, a game to amuse, but not to be taken seriously."

"Oh, I did know that." Temeraire huffed, ruff twitching apprehensively. "Only, it was most strange a story."

Laurence could only agree, "It is no average ghost's tale, no. That is why it was so popular, for a time."

Temeraire thought on that. "It could do for some more dragons in, I think."

Smiling, Laurence agreed, and bid Temeraire good-night before laying down beside him to sleep.

Laurence did not often remember his dreams, upon waking, but this one stuck out, especially so because of its mundanity. Nothing in particular was amiss, or even interesting, just that, occasionally when Laurence was speaking with Jane or Edith or Tharkay, a man, horribly pale with dark hair the like of which Laurence had never before seen, would walk through the room, taking a moment always to stare down his bone-white nose in quite disapproving a manner. When Laurence could take it no longer, he stood from the tea he was sharing with a faceless guest to inquire, "Sir, may I help you at all?" His tone belied his harmless words; he was annoyed with this strange man's constant interruption.

But the man just said, "No, William Laurence, you may not." and continued along his way. He did not return, and Laurence awoke feeling rested, if confused, to Temeraire's keening. He petted the dragon's great black muzzle until it stopped, Temeraire asleep the entire time, apparently in the midst of a strange dream himself. Indeed, walking to watch the sun rise again, he heard Granby speaking in his sleep, and Iskierka was spouting more steam than Laurence thought strictly usual, and other signs of oddity amongst others in the camp. He would have to ask Gong Su what had been placed in their dinner; it seemed to Laurence that some odd local ingredient had caused some ill reaction amongst them all.

He did not find Tharkay, that morning, and found himself strangely disappointed for it. Instead, he stood watching the sunrise alone, listening to the strange and far-off sound of someone singing a song, in Greek, of course, and very soothing, if muffled by the obvious distance and some smattering of trees. Whatever the song meant, Laurence did not have much time to dwell upon the matter, as soon after the song's completion, Temeraire awoke and began telling Laurence of the dream he had just had, of a great black dream-dragon, darker in hue even than he, with deep and empty shining pools of night where eyes would otherwise be.

It seemed that, as suspected, most of the camp spoke of having dreams of a similar type, and Gong Su did admit to adding a new ingredient to their food the night previously, though he said he had never heard of it having such an effect. The result was largely harmless, though, and Laurence personally thought it a mix of odd cooking and ghost stories before bed, as they packed begin traveling to their next destination.

Tharkay returned, fully packed and prepared himself, and as nearly custom at this point, no one asked where he had been or what he had done while he was there. Temeraire asked him if he had any strange dreams, though, to which Tharkay answered only in his quiet tone, "Yes," and nothing further was asked or offered.

It was only when they had landed at their next destination did Iskierka notice Granby's earring was missing did Laurence begin to suspect-- but, no, Tharkay would have no use for such a thing, and Laurence had no reason to distrust Tharkay. It was just his nature to disappear at inconvenient times; Laurence did no one any favor by falling into the trap of thinking Tharkay deceitful in earnest; the man was forever only purposefully suspicious, but well-meaning besides it all.

And besides, after leaving Naxos, Tharkay's mood was much less embittered. That night, after promising it was not another ghost story, he himself told a tale during their meal-- an act rapidly becoming tradition at dinner among their company.

Tharkay began, "Know that this is a tale of Baghdad, the Heavenly City, the jewel of Arabia; and that this was in the time of Haroun Al Raschid, the greatest king Baghdad had ever known..."

**Author's Note:**

> I finished reading _The Sandman_ in 2004; since then, largely without meaning to, I've written an Xover for it with every fandom I've been in. That One Chapter With Johanna Constantine And Her BFF Orpheus is probably my favorite of the short story chapters, so naturally I had to connect the two at the quickest venue possible-- the addition of dragons was just a plus. (If you haven't read said chapter, you can [here](http://www.comicoo.com/Sandman/Sandman29/index.htm) for free, along with the entire series, if you like-- I certainly suggest it; it will Change Your Life.) I apologize for the title; originally it was going to be something way more serious business, and that was the working title, but this one... stuck.


End file.
